I Believe
by Flutiegal
Summary: Sequel to the incongruent mess "I Wonder". The adventure continues.
1. Chapter 1

(plaintively) _Please_ review, readers! (Anonymous reviewing enabled)

Tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, tell me you're apathetic.

Tell me it gave you ennui.

Tell me it's even more entropic than the last one, as if _that's_ possible.

Just please, _please_, **please** tell me SOMETHING!

I acknowledge every one.

* * *

I'd thought things were pretty damn near perfect until the afternoon I came home from work and walked in on some uniformed bitch kissing my husband, one arm tight around his neck, the other clutching his waist fiercely.

Instantly irate, I failed to notice whether the hands he had on her waist were pulling her in or pushing her away.

"Looks like we still have some impulse control issues." I said, slamming the door. Maurice jumped a little and gave the woman a hard shove that sent her stumbling backward.

Rage. A purely visceral reaction I'd never felt before. Instead of trying to check it, hold it back, I just let it go.

Her black eyes narrowed and she gave me a sly, competitive, malicious smile. She ran her tongue across her lower lip. To provoke me. I didn't need provoking.

"Honey, don't _even_. I've got at least four inches on you. And guns and uniforms don't intimidate me."

"Whoa there-" Maurice started to say. We both ignored him, eyes locked.

She squared herself, hands on her hips. "Does _prison_?" She countered, making me want to pull her shiny black Pantene hair right out of her head.

"It would be so worth it." I glared down at her, unblinking, inches from her face. "Yeah, that's right, I skipped 'denial' and went right to 'anger'." Never in my life had I felt such fury. The only thing keeping me from physical violence was the fact that my children were in the next room.

"Kate, you don't have to-" Maurice tried to grab my arm and I shook free viciously, my eyes never leaving hers.

"Shut up. I'll deal with you in a minute. Right now I have to gouge her eyes out with my thumbs." The urge to actually do it was irresistible. I couldn't think of the last time I'd been this irrational.

"Kate, it's not-" he began, and I swung around, interrupting.

"Are you about to tell me 'it's not what it looks like'?" I asked, incredulous. "That line is second only to 'He was alive when I left, Detective.' Words I cannot swear I won't be repeating to an actual Detective tomorrow morning!"

"It's not-"

"Get out."

The woman started moving toward the door.

"Not you, sweetheart. You and I need to exchange insurance information so I know who to call after I wreck you." Considering what Maurice would have done had the situation been reversed, I felt I was being quite reasonable.

I turned back to him. "_Really_? With the _kids_ here? _God_, get the hell out."

"They're napping." He said lamely.

"Yeah. _That _makes it better."

"I wasn't-"

We both turned as the door clicked shut softly. She'd slipped out while my attention was on him. I hadn't gotten her name but the shiny little '79' on her collar told me where I could find her.

Maurice started to say something yet again and I cut him off.

"You'd better catch up with your girlfriend. You're going to be late for work. _Again_." That was mean, petty and totally irrelevant. Where was my logic?

"Kate, listen-" he reached to grab me by the arms and I shoved his hands away.

"Do you really think you're going to find words that will fix this?"

"When I get home-" he glanced at the clock.

"Don't expect us to be here." I stated abruptly, and turned to go check on Amanda and Mikey.

There aren't too many couples who can point to an _exact_ _moment _when their marriage went to hell.


	2. Chapter 2

Frustrated, I slammed open the door to the stairwell and clattered down toward ground level. I didn't feel like standing still in an elevator. Didn't feel like standing still _period_. God help whoever got in my way tonight.

This wasn't like her.

Usually Kate worked from a position of knowledge. She was deliberate: she weighed things and didn't react without first getting the facts. I couldn't understand this.

I would have expected her to clear her throat, cross her arms and tap her foot, waiting for an explanation before acting. Instead, she'd jumped in like she was me.

She'd always believed me. Believed _in _me. Even when she'd hardly known me.

What in the world would make her leap without looking first?

I guess maybe seeing another woman wrapped around me would do that. If it had been me walking in on her and another guy, I'd have asked questions later, too.

Never before had I felt like the hapless husband: the one who always does the wrong thing, or never knows what's going on, with a perpetually angry wife. It was a strange feeling.

She _knew_ me.

Knew _better_.

And she had still jumped to the wrong conclusion.

True, we'd both been a little distracted the last couple of months – her with the kids and finishing the book, me with Mom's issues and Dad's issues, the kids and just life in general. Maybe a little more distant than usual...

It had been a while, and _that_ wasn't like her either.

But still...how could she _ever_ think…!?

I slammed out the door on the first floor a little too roughly.

"Hi, Mrs. Peterson." I gave an abbreviated but apologetic wave at the elderly lady waiting for the elevator. She nodded at me, looking only slightly less alarmed.

Dammit, Kate, you didn't let me get a word in edgewise. I'd only been able to complete one two-word sentence.

What made things even worse was that I could have stopped it all instantly just by saying "Kimmy." But she'd had me so off-balance that it hadn't even occurred to me to do that.

I slapped aside the front door and stepped outside, breathing in the city I wanted nothing to do with right now.

Serena Belliard.

I should have told Kate about her from day one. If I had, the issue would have been resolved with a mere introduction.

She'd been after me for six months, and it had taken two for me to notice.

And _I _hadn't even been the one to notice.

Rob, the front desk guy, told me that she'd been asking around about me. He said quite a few people had noticed that Serena seemed to be wherever I was when I was there.

He warned me. "Watch out, man. Guard yourself. She's poison."

"Personal knowledge?" I asked

He shuddered. "Just what I hear."

I made a conscious effort to steer clear of her, which only seemed to make things worse. She never engaged me, just always seemed to _be there_. Next to me, behind me – in roll call,in the hall, any time I had an idle moment. She would inevitably be in the locker room always, inexplicably, half-dressed. Don't get me wrong; the first time…I noticed. But after that she might as well have been Sully. She got a lot of attention, just not mine. In spite of the fact that she was pretty, there was something ugly about her. Something just under the surface. Something ominous.

Besides.

It was Kate.

Just Kate.

Always Kate.

I'd only let Serena into the apartment that afternoon because she was in uniform. Civilian clothing would have made me a little suspicious. But, apparently, that had been her plan.

We'd been having an innocuous conversation about a shift change – trading one day for another or something like that.

The minute she'd heard Kate's key in the lock she'd unexpectedly had me in a vise-like embrace. She'd been frightfully strong for someone so small. Not to mention the fact that she'd surprised me.

She'd done it deliberately. To drive a wedge between me and Kate. Her timing had been absolutely _perfect_.

But _why_?

Just because her little seduction routine at the house hadn't worked?

I thought about all the things she would have to know and do to be sure this would work out the way it had. That was an awful lot of deliberation and planning for just me.

Was there more to it than that?

Was I missing something?

* * *

The locker room was empty.

I was _really_ late.

I didn't want company tonight. Didn't want to have to make small talk, so I asked if I could go out alone, but was denied because I 'looked like I was in one of my moods' and could 'probably use someone to keep me in line'.

Dammit.


	3. Chapter 3

After checking on Amanda and Mikey, I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed until I threw up.

I had to get out of there.

I loaded a suitcase with clothes for the three of us, filled the diaper bag and tossed in some snacks and juice boxes and brought it all downstairs to the car.

We'd bought a very practical sedan because of the kids, rather than the restored 1968 Pontiac Le Mans I'd desperately wanted. Maurice still had his car, so I had to be satisfied to occasionally drive that. Every now and then when he could tell I was feeling a little cagey or had had a tough day with the kids he'd just toss me the keys and say "Go," and I would take it to the highway and go as fast as I could handle.

It vexed him that I never tried to talk my way out of a speeding ticket. He'd ask "Why don't you ever tell them you're married to a cop?" I'd tell him I didn't feel I deserved special treatment, and I ought to accept the consequences of my actions. "You play, you pay." I'd said simply. I'd gotten five tickets in all, but I hadn't told him about all the times I'd been stopped and they'd let me off with a warning, I'd assumed because they'd run the registration and found out who the car belonged to.

I went back upstairs. Mikey was sitting up in his crib, sucking his thumb, gazing at me with big blue eyes. He gave me a toothless grin around his thumb. Boo was still asleep and I gently woke her, and sent her off to the bathroom while I changed Mikey's diaper.

I couldn't let myself think about what I was doing or I wouldn't do it.

I gathered the kids up and walked out the door.

Once we were on the road I tried calling Rose, who wasn't there. Which was probably for the best. It would be the first place he'd look and I needed time to think.

I called Sully at his lake-side cabin.

"Hey, Dad," I said when he answered. I'd asked him to act as father-of-the-bride for the wedding. He'd agreed then tried to make Maurice ask him for my hand in marriage, which went over really well. Every chance he got he reminded Maurice that we married without his consent.

"What's up?"

"Can the kids and I come up and stay for the night?"

"What's wrong?"

"Long story." I said, biting my lip hard to keep the tears at bay.

"Come on up. Rose is here." He added.

Sully and Rose had bonded during the wedding planning and had become good friends. He'd helped her get sober and in the process they developed deeper feelings for each other. They'd been involved for just over a year. Maurice found it disturbing, while I tried to convince him it was sweet and adorable.

"Good." I said, sighing heavily. "I'll see you in about an hour and a half."

I'd been hoping to use the time in the car to gather my scattered thoughts, but the kids kept me occupied by staying awake for the whole trip. I finally got Boo to read out loud to Mikey, to keep his noise to a minimum. She'd taught herself to read just after her third birthday. She'd watched Sesame Street studiously and had shown an amazing interest in the printed word. I'd been planning to start home-schooling her when she turned four, but with her steely determination she'd beat me to it.

When I got there, Sully opened the door and took Mikey from me and handed him off to Rose before crushing me in a bear hug.

Boo eased her way around us and went right to Rose. "Hello, Grandmother," she greeted her formally. This was her own thing. We'd been calling Rose 'Grandma' from day one, but sometime during the lessons about respecting adults and addressing them properly she'd gotten it in her head that she had to use formal terms. The first time she'd addressed Maurice as 'Father' he'd nearly choked on his breakfast.

"Missed you," Sully growled, releasing me and stepping back to let me in.

I couldn't resist ribbing him a little bit. "So, are we going to be making the switch from 'Uncle Sully' to '_Grandfather_' any time soon? Better hurry. Boo's old enough to be confused by it." I hoped it would happen before she figured out that 'Sully' was short for something and started calling him 'Uncle Sullivan'.

"Neither of us is in any hurry." I was lucky he'd even acknowledged the question."I'll get your bags from the car. If this has anything to do with that man you married you'd better talk to _her_."

"Hello, Grandmother." I teased, giving Rose a kiss on the cheek and a hug around Mikey.

"What did my son do?" she asked, and I suddenly couldn't keep the tears from leaking out.

Sully saw that when he came in with the bags and dropped them at the door. He scooped Mikey out of Rose's arms, took Boo's hand and led them across the room to the tv. He sat on the floor with Mikey on his lap and let Boo choose a movie.

Rose put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. "Tell me what happened," and she sat me down at the kitchen table and started preparing some tea for me, while I choked out the story.

She set a steaming mug of peppermint herbal tea in front of me and sat across from me, arms folded on the table.

"That certainly doesn't sound like him. There must be a perfectly innocent explanation." She stated matter-of-factly.

Her blunt statement made me realize she was right. "You're right. There _has _to be, right? I've _never_ not trusted him." As a matter of fact, we had a running private joke that we'd started one night when we'd gone out to dinner and the waitress had shamelessly flirted with him. Not like the ones who just flirt with men for a bigger tip; she'd been really aggressive about it.

I'd referred to her as 'Kimmy' for the rest of the evening, which vexed her considerably because her nametag clearly read 'Sharon'. I'd had an acquaintance in college named Kimmy who felt the need to pursue or make advances toward every guy she met, whether they were with someone or not.

So every now and then Maurice would come home and tell me "I ran into Kimmy today," and I'd look up from my book or my work or the kids and say "Yeah? Where?"

"Traffic stop," or "Store 24," or "Pizza place over on Third."

I'd nod with satisfaction.

It just then occurred to me that maybe this chick had just been a Kimmy and there was nothing to it.

But if that was the case, why hadn't he _said_ so?

Rose reached across the table and grabbed my hand.

"You need to give him a chance to explain. I've never known you to react this way to _any_thing."

"I do. I _do_ need to give him a chance to explain. I let my emotions get the best of me. What is wrong with me? What am I doing?"

I looked over at Sully with the kids. Boo pointed to herself and said, "Boo!", then jabbed Sully. "Sully!" And then she pointed her tiny finger at Mikey and said "Mike Wazowski!" That was funny. It had never occurred to me, and I laughed. It was such a relief to laugh that I almost couldn't stop.

Rose gave me an odd look.

"You're all over the place." She observed. I chuckled and wiped a tear from my eye.

"I am." I admitted.

"Has it occurred to you that you might be pregnant?"

I just looked at her for a second, then burst into laughter again.

Because I instantly knew she was right.

Again.


	4. Chapter 4

**7-9 PM, Monday**

I'd wanted to get back to the city immediately, but Rose talked me into staying by reminding me Maurice was working and I had plenty of time to share a late dinner with them and still get home before he did. She offered to watch the kids overnight, which put a bit of a disgruntled look on Sully's face.

"Where are we going to put a one-year-old?" he griped.

"Kate always keeps the portable crib in the trunk just in case," Rose argued.

"What's he going to _eat_? He's got no teeth."

"Kate is always prepared. I'm sure the diaper bag has enough food for all four of us." She was wearing him down.

I'm not sure what I looked like at that moment, but when Sully glanced at me his expression instantly softened and he said "Fine," less grudgingly than I would have expected.

And thank God for that, because I can't even imagine how things would have turned out if I'd decided to take them home with me. Sometimes, on nights when I can't sleep, the thought _still_ gives me chills.

With hugs and kisses and the promise that I'd come pick the kids up mid-afternoon the next day, I finally hit the road.

My first stop once I'd left the cabin was to the nearest pharmacy, where I was quickly able to confirm Rose's suspicions. I was all knocked up.

That explained everything. The barely controllable fury, the sobbing, the vomiting, the mercurial mood swings.

This was an entirely new experience for me, though. The last two pregnancies had been a breeze when it came to this type of thing. Of course, I'd had a gigantic appetite, but my emotions had been on a pretty even keel. I'd had a little of what we'd liked to call 'baby brain', meaning the baby actually _ate_ my brain because there was absolutely no evidence to show that I had one. Those days had tended to generate a good deal of laughter, I remembered fondly, as I drove. Things had been great all along. Blissful, warm and perfect.

Odds were, this was just some big misunderstanding.

But what if it wasn't?

What if he was actually involved with that woman?

_Then _what?

I brooded a long time over that one.

And I finally decided that if it was a chronic issue, he'd have to go. But I didn't for a second believe that was the case.

If it was a one-time thing, I'd have to do whatever it took to get beyond it and learn to trust him again.

I ran my left hand across my forehead and eyes. How had I gotten _here_? From _there…_

* * *

When I'd walked into the inn the morning after his scheduled wedding, Maurice had been the first thing on my mind, and the last thing I'd expected to see. Yet there he was, with his ringless left hand and a look of uncertainty.

Paul had called across the room to me, "Kate, this young man is here to see you." Master of the obvious, he.

I'd reached over the counter to set my bag and water bottle down.

"Hi," he'd said, and had studied my face to gauge my reaction.

"Hi," had been all I could manage, shocked speechless.

Paul had stood behind the desk, shamelessly looking from me to Maurice and back again.

He'd glanced at Paul. "Can we talk?", he'd asked, implying privacy.

"Um, in like twelve hours," I'd said apologetically, gesturing at Paul, whose scrutiny had started to feel invasive. I'd had a difficult time wrapping my mind around the unbelievable moment.

"Paul, can you cover for me for a minute? I'll be right back." He'd agreed, but had looked disappointed that I was taking the entertainment elsewhere. I'd pulled Maurice outside.

"Look, go hang at my place. Make yourself at home. I'll be back just after six. We can talk all you want then."

"I want to talk _now_." Instant gratification being his thing.

"I can't just walk away from my job."

The look on his face had been priceless: disbelief and irony. "Since _when_?"

"Fair enough. I can't just walk away from _this _job."

He'd nodded, arms crossed, looking at the landscaping, the trees, everywhere but at me. "This is about Joe, isn't it? Should I just leave? I mean, did I make a mistake? I'm too late?"

He'd interpreted my inability to think or act as disinterest.

I'd frowned at him.

"I thought you knew."

He'd looked at me blankly. Exhaustedly.

I'd grasped his face in my hands just as I had the first time I'd kissed him.

"It's all you. Always has been."

"Ah," he'd cleared his throat, stepping back. "Eleven hours," he'd checked his watch, "forty-five minutes. I'll, uh,wait. Got a key?"

"It's open."

He'd shaken his head with a wry smile. "You're a fool."

I'd gestured at him, smiling. "Clearly."

He'd quickly flicked his eyes over my shoulder then back again. "I'll let you get back to work. See you later."

I'd turned, expecting to see Paul, but instead faced David and Joe, with identical curious looks on their fraternal faces.

David had held the door for me and I'd ducked inside, hoping to escape that curiosity with a busy morning.

Paul had had a few things to fill me in on, but David and Joe had made it crystal clear that they wanted to pry into my personal life as soon as humanly possible.

I'd dragged my feet as long as I could.

I'd even created 'busy work' in order to avoid the conversation.

At one point I'd paused to take a swig out of my water bottle and that had been, of course, the moment Joe had chosen to poke his head out of the office.

"Still busy?"

I could only answer inthe negative.

I'd shaken my head 'no' while swallowing the mouthful of water and setting the bottle down. Joe had held the door wide and I'd ducked under his arm. He'd closed the door behind me.

They'd started peppering me with questions I couldn't make heads or tails of because they were both talking over each other. I'd held my hands up and they'd stopped.

"All I can tell you is what I know for certain. He didn't get married. He's here. I love him. Now you know as much as I do."

Hands clasped on his desk, Joe looked out the window.

"It was a pre-existing condition," I'd said apologetically. He'd just nodded.

David had tried to leave the room discreetly, but he'd had to physically move me, as I'd backed myself against the door. He'd squeezed my shoulder as he stepped around me and left.

Left me looking at Joe.

He had stood, hands in his pockets, looking out the back window through the lush gardens at the carriage house.

"I'm sorry." I'd said.

"Well, the heart wants what it wants, right?" He'd given me a crooked smile.

I'd mumbled something in agreement then added something awkward about needing to get back to work. He'd turned back to the window.

* * *

Longest. Day. _Ever_.

Paul had shown up fifteen minutes late in a passive-aggressive attempt to get back the fifteen minutes I'd taken from him that morning. I'd barely said goodbye before bolting for the door.

I'd burst into the apartment breathlessly, and dropped my bag on the coffee table just as he came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. We'd just looked at each other awkwardly for a minute before he said tentatively, "I was trying to make something. You look like you could use a sandwich." He looked me over, "Or _ten_."

"Stop being such a boy scout. Two and a half years and you think what I want is a _sandwich_?"

* * *

"Holy God." He'd said, tucking his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"_Definitely _worth the wait." I'd agreed. I'd sighed and we'd fallen silent for a few minutes, until I laughed.

"What?"

"I want you again."

He'd looked over at me. "We're going to get along just fine, aren't we?"

* * *

By morning we'd put together a two-week plan. I'd give my notice, finish things up and fly back to New York.

The best laid plans… Two weeks turned to four. Then six. Then eight.

Joe and David had hired Shannon.

She hadn't been the brightest candidate, but she was very sweet and I'd sensed sparks between her and Joe from the very first day.

David and I had been on the same page. I'd offered to stay on and train her relentlessly, so she could grasp Joe's filing system. David had started inviting Shannon to join us all for dinner. Turns out that while she wasn't an expert with the computer, she was a whiz in the kitchen. She and Joe began to bond very quickly. And David definitely approved.

* * *

When I'd finally made it to New York, Maurice had picked me up at the airport.

I'd dragged my suitcase into his apartment and looked around, remembering the first time I had done that. I think I'd made a comment on the fact that he'd painted the walls green, and had wondered out loud whether it was out of spite.

On the drive home we had behaved like teenagers at every stoplight, and a couple of times the cars behind us had had to remind us to move on, so I wasn't at all surprised when he slammed the door shut, knocked my suitcase out of my hand, pulled me into the bedroom, and made me forget that I had something to tell him.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**9 PM, Monday**

Six hours of this guy's nonsense, and I finally told him to shut up and listen to _me _talk. Seriously, he hadn't shut his mouth all night.

I'd made it clear I hadn't wanted a permanent partner. After Faith, I knew I could never have that kind of thing again, and didn't even want to try. So I got stuck with a lot of transients and rehabs. Or maybe they got stuck with me. But that was okay, as long as it was short-term.

_This _guy, though. He had just spent three weeks at the 78th. And they'd pushed him over to us. I was hoping we could push him somewhere else before I got stuck with him _again_.

He was all of thirteen and just kept talking about his mother.

All night.

Most of the time I'd tuned him out because I was thinking about Kate, but it finally got to the point where I couldn't take one more word from him.

I'd stopped the car abruptly and turned to him and asked him if he knew what it was like to love a woman. I was serious, because I really believed the kid lived in Mom's basement.

He'd said sure, plenty of times, deliberately misreading my intent. Probably the same answer I would have given at his age.

"You have no idea." I'd told him, pulling away from the curb. "You have to love the whole woman _and _all the little things that make her who she is."

"_I_ could love me a whole woman right now." He'd grinned.

"Great. Back to Mommy again." He'd been about to object, but I just started talking loud to shut him up.

"You know what I love about Kate? I love that she drowns her salad in so much dressing that it becomes _useless_ as a healthy alternative."

He grunted.

"Ever notice something like that about a woman? A detail like that?"

He took a minute to admit it. "No." then added, "I don't even get their names half the time."

I looked over at him, long enough for him to know I knew better. "_Right_." I'd said, and continued. "I love that she checks out muscle cars like kids like you check out women. With that –" I searched for the words, "head-turning, stride-stopping gawk." Marrying a writer had improved my vocabulary by osmosis.

"She likes old cars?"

"_Real _cars. _Classic _cars." I'd corrected, and fallen silent for a moment. The kid sensed an opportunity and launched into a story about his mother and The Birthday From Hell.

I ignored him and moved on to other things I liked about Kate.

I thought about how, a couple of years earlier, she had started growing her hair to her waist , then cutting enough of it off to donate to Locks of Love. She was on her third time around, and it occurred to me I hadn't seen her hair down in a while. She wore it up all the time with the kids. And, lately, even to bed, as if it bothered her. And I'd never met a woman who grew her hair for anyone other than herself.

I liked that she so preferred paperback books to hard covers that she would wait as long as it took for the paperback version of a book. No matter how popular it was or how much buzz it had generated, she would wait. Like she'd waited for me.

I loved that she was so independent, yet she made it clear that she needed me completely.

I loved that she was a great mom. _Beyond_ great. One morning about a month earlier, through the closed bedroom door I could hear Mikey's screams of laughter dissolving into giggles that would then escalate into a squeal. Then belly laughs. He had a great laugh.

I'd rolled over and squinted at the clock. 10 AM. He was usually in a foul mood until at least noon. Not that he got that from me, or anything.

I'd thought maybe Kate was on to something.

I'd passed by Amanda, who was sitting three feet from the TV watching _Cinderella_, her favorite that month. She had been eating dry Cheerios out of a cup. I'd kissed her on the top of the head and she'd waved me away impatiently.

I'd eased my way around the corner to the kitchen, not wanting to disrupt what sounded like a really good time.

Kate had been bouncing Mikey on her right hip and feeding him applesauce with her left hand. She was chirping cheerily to him, a Kate-modified version of one of the songs from - what else - _Cinderella_. The one the mice sang.

"Boscorelli, Boscorelli, night and day it's Boscorelli. 'Change my diaper, do my laundry, where's my dinner, when's my bath time?'!"

Mikey had squealed again, and she'd inserted another spoonful of applesauce into his mouth. He'd immediately pursed his lips and spit it back at her. _That_ particular brand of stubborn hadn't come from me; that was all Kate.

"Cute song." I'd said.

"I can make one up for you, too, if you want." She'd offered, handing me Mikey so she could go change her shirt. She'd paused and added,"Probably wouldn't be rated 'G' though."

"I'm good. As long as I can look forward to an R-rated _evening."_

_"R?" _She'd echoed. "Where's your ambition?"

I loved that she never got tired of me. Not personally, and especially not physically…she never told me no. Icould wake her at three in the morning and she'd be as enthusiastic as if it were the kids' naptime on a Saturday afternoon.

I never had, but I _could_.

As a matter of fact, I remembered a morning about two months after we were married - it was the morning after a particularly entertaining evening. I'd found her in the kitchen, filling the pepper mill like Ralphie loading his Red Ryder BB gun. I'd asked her where her desire came from and she had just laughed and told me to go look in the mirror. I'd said I was serious and she'd said so was she. Then she looked up from her work and gave me one of her smiles. "Just making up for two and a half years of lost time, I guess."

"We did that the first week."

"Speak for yourself." She'd said, with a wink.

Huh. The mirror. There had been one time – one incredible time- I think it must have been around the same time after the wedding. She'd complained that her clothes were constricting, even though I couldn't see any difference in her. She'd had this work thing that required something dressy, so she'd gone shopping.

That evening I'd been riding with this guy I'd just decided to call 'Goober'. Nothing had been happening, so we'd decided to take a break for dinner at around six-thirty.

I'd known Kate had been stressed about finding just the right thing to wear, so I'd called her on her cell to see how it had gone. She'd answered and told me she couldn't decide between the black dress and the green. We had been literally right around the corner from the shop she had been at, so I'd told her I'd be right there but I was betting on the green. I'd told Goober he could wait a minute or two for me or go three doors down to the sandwich place and get something.

The shop had been icy, like a museum, and when I'd asked the clerk where the dressing rooms were, he'd looked alarmed.

I'd explained that my wife was having a hard time choosing a dress and shrugged and he seemed to understand, but I think the uniform put him off. He gestured toward the corner. "Dressing rooms." He'd said.

"Women's?"

"Unisex." He'd clarified.

Super.

When I'd stepped in it had seemed deserted. Then I'd seen the closed door down at the end on the left.

I'd walked down and said, "Kate."

"Come in," she'd chirped. I'd pushed the door open and she'd been wearing a classic black dress.

"That's perfect." I'd said. She'd ushered me in and locked the door behind me.

"You think so? I can't decide. I really think I like the green." She smoothed the front of the dress, over a stomach I'd been pretty sure was showing nothing yet. Her eyes had gone from her own reflection to mine and she'd stopped and exhaled deeply. She looked at me from head to toe and back again.

"I haven't seen you in _that_ since..."

"The first night." I'd finished for her.

"Honey, you are my Viagra."

"Like you'd _need_ it." I'd scoffed.

"You wanna talk about what I need?" She'd met my eyes in the mirror.

"_No_. Don't go there. Just let me see the green dress." She'd shrugged off the black dress. I'd just realized I had foolishly let myself be locked in an enclosed space with a half-dressed Kate.

She'd quickly put on the green dress, which had been absolute magic with her hair and eyes. I'd zipped up the back. It had been stunning.

"That's the one." I'd said.

"Okay." She'd said, and I'd unzipped her. She'd let the dress drop to the floor, hung it back on it's hanger, then turned around and clasped both hands behind my neck.

"Thank you for _all _your help, Officer."

"Oh, no. Kate. No." I'd said.

She'd just smiled and given me a kiss that told me I wasn't going to get out of there anytime soon. I been moving to gently push her away, but the second I'd put my hands on her bare waist, there'd been no fight left in me.

"I've got this Goober waiting in the car," I'd protested.

"Then we'd better make it quick."

* * *

The strangest part had been standing there waiting with her while she'd paid for the dress, with the flamboyantly smarmy clerk looking at me like he knew. I hadn't thought he was that smart, but it had still felt like he knew. It was probably just that he'd had something stashed out back that he didn't want me to know about.

As Kate had been signing the sales slip, I'd stepped up behind her and whispered, "Don't ever do that to me again." With enough of a stern tone to let her know I was serious, but enough humor to let her know I wasn't mad.

"Any chance I get." She'd countered, and had flipped the pen back at the clerk with a nod and a smile. She'd been true to her word, too, because later that year she'd managed it again at Sully's Fourth of July party.

We'd stepped outside and a horrifying thought occurred to me. "Surveillance cameras! For shoplifters! Kate!"

"There weren't any. I checked."

"You _checked_?" I asked, incredulous. "That was _premeditated_?"

"No. I just always check. I like to know."

I'd breathed a monstrous sigh of relief and she'd given me a very thorough kiss goodbye.

"Wear this home tonight. Hot, hot, hot."

"After _that?_ You get _nothing_!" I'd exclaimed.

"Hm." She'd said. " A challenge.".

She'd turned and walked down away from me, garment bag over her shoulder. Four pregnant and hot as hell.

Goober had gone to the sandwich place and was just finishing up something that looked very satisfying. I realized I was really hungry.

"Sorry I took so long. " I'd said. "She couldn't decide green or black." I'd started the car. He hadn't even heard me. He'd been watching Kate walk away.

"Damn!" He'd exclaimed. "You're hittin' _that_? I'd hit that. Definitely hit that."

" _'That', " _I'd snarled, "Is my _wife_. Need. I. Say. More."

He'd fallen silent. And he hadn't said a word the rest of the night.

I remembered when the show _Jon and Kate Plus Eight_ had started she'd watched five minutes of it then had left the room declaring that she was absolutely going to change her name.

And the time, just before our first anniversary when we'd planned a weekend of camping and hiking in the Adirondacks. It had been about fifteen minutes before the end of the shift and I'd been dying to get out of there, busting a gut to finish up some paperwork, because Kate was meeting me and we were going straight up there. When I'd turned in the papers at the desk, the guy asked "You Boscorelli?" When I'd nodded, he'd flipped a plain white envelope at me. "Someone left this for you."

I'd opened it and shook out a book of matches. From our wedding. With our names and the date stamped in gold. Turns out 'Kate' wasn't short for anything. Mom, the only smoker I know, had ordered 500 of them in spite of the fact that we'd had like twenty-five guests. Kate kept them in drawers all over the apartment,with candles, in case of a power outage.

I'd frowned at it. Why would she leave this for me? And I'd flipped it open and read the message she'd written on the inside, "Come on, baby, light my campfire."

Try to set the night on fire, indeed.

I couldn't wait to get home tonight.

Unfortunately, with that thought, a call came through that jolted me back to reality.

And after that the night went to hell and the kid got a decent education about life on the streets before going back home to Mommy.


	6. Chapter 6

**10 PM Monday**

A stop for gasoline and a huge cup of coffee interrupted my retrospective. I had been thinking about my first night back in New York: I'd definitely had to make a trip up to the roof. "Frasier Guy is still here," Maurice pointed, "but Laundry Lady moved out sometime ago." I'd wondered if he'd ever been up here with Deb, but I hadn't asked because I really hadn't wanted to know.

The following morning I'd left what I'd thought had been a sleeping Maurice, and had gone to make coffee. I'd been fussing with a new coffeemaker with all kinds of confusing gadgets when he'd come up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "Marry me." Just like that.

The filter full of the previous day's grounds hit the floor. "_What_?"

"Marry me." He'd said simply and shrugged. "What did you _think _this was about?"

"I wasn't thinking _that_! I mean – " I didn't know what to say. "I didn't - I wasn't-" But he'd _been_ in that place – that commitment place. He'd been prepared for it and had almost done it. It had scared the hell out of me. I had just been thinking about how this apartment had been my entire New York universe for those four days and that the notion of coming and going as I liked had been a strange one. I'd felt a sudden claustrophobia. Breathe, Kate, breathe.

"Okay. Okay. You obviously need some time to think about this."

"Yes," I breathed gratefully. That was it. "Time. And I haven't coffee yet."

And we'd both looked down at the grounds scattered around our feet. He'd taken my hand and stepped back, pulling me out of the mess.

"Why don't we go out to breakfast? There's a great diner closeby." He'd changed the subject, and then the setting. But only to sidestep my defense mechanisms. To attack from a different direction.

"Come on," he'd pulled me toward the bedroom. "Get dressed. Let's go."

I'd stopped short. "I have to tell you something."

He'd turned around with a look of warning. "The _last _time you said something like that – " He'd stopped. "Tell me." He'd said with trepidation.

Remember when you came up north-"

"Pretty sure!" He'd prompted quickly, expectant, impatient.

I'd grabbed his hand. I hadn't known _how _to do it, but I'd known I'd have to wait to do it in person, so I'd just blurted, "There's, um- we're...uh. It's a baby. I found out last week. I didn't want to tell you over the phone."

He'd blinked, looked at me blankly for a full minute, then smiled his 'I won' smile. "Now you have to." He'd squeezed my hand.

I'd snatched my hand away. "I don't _have_ to do _any_thing."

He'd grabbed it back. "_Now_ you _have _to!" I'd been unable to form words.

And he'd nodded and repeated, "Now you have to."

I pulled my hand free and stomped toward the bedroom. "I'm getting dressed."

"All I just heard was 'yes,yes,yes'!" he'd called after me, going to clean up the coffee grounds.

As I'd been getting dressed, I'd heard him call his mother.

_**Now** _I _had _to.

That had been the first time I'd had to tell him. And here I was looking at a third time. I don't want to get into statistics and percentages or anything, but all things considered, we were damn lucky we didn't have eighteen at this point.

* * *

The diner had been six or seven blocks away and as we walked Maurice told me, "Next week. Next month. Next _year_. Whenever you want."

"I just want some _time_."

"Time for what?"

"I don't know."

"Look, either you want to or you don't. Which is it?"

"I want to."

"Okay. Your mind's made up. If it's only a matter of time, why does time matter?"

In other words, it's inevitable, why wait? Sometimes the man made sense.

"How long does it take to get the blood tests and marriage license?" I'd asked.

He'd shrugged. "Couple of weeks."

I'd taken a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Couple of weeks, then. After Christmas."

He'd stopped, put his hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes, very seriously. "Are you sure?"

I'd nodded. "But we go all in. Divorce is not an option."

"Deal." he aid, then added, "We can do this any way you want. Big, small, underwater, top of the Empire State Building, diving out of a plane…"

I'd continued walking. "I want a Star Wars theme." I'd said matter-of-factly.

"_Any_thing but that."

* * *

We'd settled into a booth at the diner and ordered coffee, but when it came, Maurice had tried to take mine away.

"You shouldn't have that."

"Oh," I'd said and had started sliding toward the end of the booth to leave, "If this is how it's going to be just forget it."

"Wait." He'd grabbed my wrist. "I just want what's best-"

"Coffee is best." I'd growled.

He'd released me and slid my mug back toward me. "Coffee's good." Hands up in surrender.

After a brief silence, he'd said, eyes bright, "Let's talk honeymoon!"

I was about to tell him I didn't think we needed one when someone stopped at the table. "Long time no see."

Faith. I jumped up and gave her a hug.

She slid into the booth next to Maurice. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"We're planning our wedding." He'd groused.

"Words I never thought I'd hear you say, and here I've heard them not once but twice." She nudged him. "Are you actually going to show up for this one?"

"You know I was there. I just- I couldn't-" He'd glanced out the window then back at me with a look of desperation. He'd wanted me to change the subject.

Before I could say anything, Faith had continued. "Do I get to be 'best man' again? Because you know there's nothing I like better than telling a church full of people to go home."

Maurice had fiddled with his napkin. "That won't happen this time," he'd mumbled.

When the waitress had come back I had been able to see the relief on his face.

I'd ordered a bacon, tomato and swiss omelette, and he'd started to say something about the nitrates in bacon, but the look I'd given him had made him stop mid-sentence.

Faith had asked, amusedly,"What was all that about?" as the waitress returned and thunked down her diet soda.

I 'd nodded at Maurice. "Officer Friendly here is over-protective. He's going to be a father."

He'd scowled. "I'm one _now._ It's just a matter of _location_."

"Congratulations." Faith had sipped her soda through the straw and arched an eyebrow at Maurice. "What are you going to name her?"

"_Her_? How do you know it's a _her_?"

"Cosmic justice." She'd reminded him and sat back. "So, is this going to be a more formal affair, like your _first_ wedding?"

Seeing his discomfort, I'd jumped in. "I was thinking small and intimate and as low-key as possible."

"I'm starting to think elopement!" Maurice said pointedly to Faith through his hands, which were covering his face.

I'd looked at Faith. "Don't you sometimes wish you could apologize for other people?"

"I _did_ apologize" she reminded me. "I made excuses. For years. He's all yours, now."

"Ooh," I'd mused. "That aspect has never occurred to me. Maybe we can negotiate. You can take him for visitation. On weekends..." I'd offered hopefully.

She'd shaken her head. No way.

Maurice had dropped his hands from his face and glared at me.

"This is supposed to be a _happy_ time."

"You've kind of done this to yourself," Faith commented drily. And the waitress brought our breakfasts.

Maurice had pointed his fork at my plate. "You eat all of that. I want you to stop looking like a heroin addict."

"I lost weight because of _you_." I'd pointed out.

"Now you're going to gain it because of me." He'd quipped, with a smirk.

I'd given him my best Clint Eastwood squint, then had eaten exactly half of what was on my plate. _And_ asked for another cup of coffee.

"Kate, you just got the 'I let that go for now, but I'll be back for it' look." Faith observed.

"I have the feeling I'm going to get that a lot. Because I plan to cause it a lot."

"A baby," Faith mused as if the thought had just sunk in. She gave Maurice a sideways look. "That's a lot of responsibility. And a _lot _of change at once. Are you ready for that?"

"It's not that much. Kate doesn't have that much stuff -"

"_Any _stuff_." _I interjected.

He glanced at me and finished, "-and we just need to get a crib." He'd shrugged.

"And a dresser, a car seat, baby clothes, baby toys, baby monitors, baby bathtubs..." Faith rattled off a list that made Maurice look like he was rethinking the breakfast he'd just had. "Not to mention finding a new apartment." she'd finished.

"A new apartment?" He'd echoed.

"You need two bedrooms."

"I tought it would be easier if we kept the crib in our room."

"Sure, if you want to traumatize the poor thing." She squinted at him. "Is _that _why you're the way you are?"

"Very funny."

I nudged him under the table with my foot. He looked over.

"I love the way you are."

"Oh, please!" Faith rolled her eyes. "You two were much more fun to be around when you hated each other."

He'd clasped my hands in his own, and given Faith a deliberate and defiant look, and said,exaggeratedly, "Do you think that's true, _Shmoopie_?"

" 'No, _you're _Shmoopie'." I'd responded.

" 'No, _you're _Shmoopie'."

"Enough _Seinfeld. _I get the point." Faith had looked at me. "Do you have a maid-of-honor in mind?"

I'd thought for a minute. "No. The only real friends I have - " I'd begun, then said to Maurice, in jest, "I suppose Joe is out of the question."

He had just given me a look and made that little muscle in his jaw twitch.

"Sully?" Faith had added humorously.

"Father of the bride." Maurice had grumbled. (I had forgotten that it had been _his _idea. I'd have to rub that in next time Sully gave him a hard time).

"I guess I just won't have one. This whole thing is so surreal I wouldn't be surprised if we ended up having it standing on our heads on the moon, wearing Hawaiian shirts."

"Thus the term 'honeymoon'." Faith had kidded.

"_He_ wants one. I don't think we need one." I'd said.

"Three days is all I'm asking. All of a sudden it's a crime to want to spend time alone with you?"

"We can be alone here."

"With room service?"

"Delivery." I'd countered.

"Exotic locale." He'd thrown at me. Faith fielded that one.

"Like you'd leave the room." She'd snorted.

"I'll leave the room! It'll be January. We'll go someplace warm."

"You have a fireplace." I'd reminded him. "We can be warm at home."

"Why are you being so difficult?"

"Would you prefer complacency? Because I don't think I can pull that off."

"Just stop being so sensible. This is supposed to be _fun_."

I sat back, arms crossed and smiled at him. "_I'm _having fun."

He'd shaken his head, looked into his near-empty coffee cup, then over at Faith. "And I'm signing up for a lifetime of this."

"At least she lets you be you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That _last _one," Faith said, barely hiding her disdain, "would have steamrolled you into submission. I did _not_ like her. If you 'd married her you'd be a shell of a man right now."

"You think that? You _thought _that? And you didn't _say _anything?" He'd been incredulous.

"It was what you wanted."

"You were just going to stand by and watch me make that kind of mistake?"

"If you really think about it, you'll realize that I was planting little seeds of doubt the all along. Especially after you told me you found her." Faith nodded at me. "I just didn't think it would take so long to work its way through your thick skull." She gave a chuckle. "Boy, you really cut it close."

"Seeds of doubt. Since when do _you _notcome out and say something?"

"You had to figure it out yourself."

"And what if I hadn't?" He'd been really agitated.

"You _would _have."

"What if I _didn't_?"

"You did."

He'd slouched back, flicking his coffee cup repetitively, stewing over that.

I had wondered how that day had gone for him; the things he'd done, the words he'd chosen. But I'd never asked about it. That was his, it was separate. What a mess it all must have been. The flowers, the people, all the planning...

I'd exhaled quickly, feeling a sudden panic. I'd looked from Maurice to Faith and back again. "This is _real, _isn't it?"

"Give it a couple of months. You'll _wish _it was all a dream." That had earned Faith a glare.

"I just can't believe there will actuallybe a ring on that finger." She'd added and grabbed at Maurice's left ring finger and he pulled away.

"It's going to be a special ring." I'd said, "One with a sensor, armed with a warning system that verbally alerts any woman within ten feet to back off." That got him to smile a little.

He'd actually ended up with a plain gold band, but he'd never taken it off. Not for any reason.

The first time I'd removed my rings, he'd looked at me with alarm. "Why are your rings off?"

"Lotion makes them grimy."

"I'll never take _mine _off!"

"What is this - a competition? That makes you more married than me?" I'd asked.

In the end, we'd settled on small and simple for the wedding and I'd allowed him to take me to Puerto Rico for three days where we did, occasionally, leave the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**11 PM Monday**

When I let myself into the apartment close to eleven, I threw my keys into the Longaberger basket I'd hung at eye level next to the front door, expressly for that purpose. Boo had a thing for keys and she had made us both late for work too many times to count.

Maurice had chronically left his on the coffee table, while I'd always drop mine on the kitchen counter. Boo would stealthily snatch them without a sound and disappear. I'd once found Maurice's keys at the very bottom of Boo's toy box precisely an hour and a half after he'd needed them. After a five-minute search, I had just sent him off with mine. Thank God I'd been able to. All too often both sets went missing at the same time.

The event that had precipitated the inception of the 'key basket' had been finding my keys in a bathroom sink full of water and bubble bath. The keys had been 'bathing' with the doll house people. That had happened mere weeks after my last birthday; Maurice had given me a remote car starter, anticipating the cold winter weather. The ensuing interrogation of my three year old daughter had been something to see. Watching him contain his anger and still make things plain to her, God, he was something else.

We'd installed the basket the next day. I'd had to make sure she couldn't reach it, not even by standing on a chair.

I threw my bag on the couch, hoping Maurice would be home sooner rather than later. Either way, the coffee had given me that little extra jolt I needed to keep me going in case it turned out to be a late night.

I'd been about to sink to the couch to wait, but remembered all the crying and decided I'd better check the mirror. Didn't want him coming home to a woman who looked like a crazed Muppet.

Yes, I needed more repairs than the Hubble Telescope. I decided I just wanted to wash the day off me, and I did feel a lot better after a long hot shower. I put on a fitted tee shirt and athletic shorts, which I routinely wore to bed. I combed out my hair and left it down to dry, something I hadn't been able to do since Mikey realized he had fingers. I reapplied my makeup.

When I'd finished, the overall effect was a little better than when I'd returned home from work that afternoon, but less heavy than the 'walking out the door to work' look. I wasn't sure why I was taking such great pains with my appearance.

Oh, hell, of course I was.

I had no idea what I was in for when he got home.

He could be happy.

He could be mad.

He could be so pissed at me for doubting him that he'd bring the woman home with him, expecting me not to be there.

Knock it off, Kate. Don't even let yourself go down that road. You know he wouldn't.

Damn hormones. I felt terribly insecure all of a sudden. I hugged myself with my own arms and made my way back to the living room.

As I passed through the doorway I noticed the light on the answering machine was blinking.

The first message was from Rose, in a conspiratorial whisper, informing Maurice that the kids and I were up at the cabin safe and sound with her and Sully. And that I'd be returning to sort things out.

How she loved that boy.

The second message had come when I was in the shower and was one I had prepared myself for long ago, but never really expected to receive. It was a hurried nurse from Mercy Hospital, whose name I didn't bother to catch, stating that Maurice had been injured and was being treated and could I please please get down there as soon as possible so I could confirm that all possible life-saving measures should be taken.

I'd imagined myself, at a moment like that, knees giving way, falling to the floor, an emotional wreck. But I stood, knees locked, absolutely frozen, with every horrible possibility running through my mind. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't even really hear the phone ring or the answering machine pick up until the woman started leaving a message.

"Mrs. Boscorelli, this is Nurse DiLorenzo from Mercy Hospital –"

I was startled into action. I grabbed the phone and said "Hello!" desperately.

"We've been trying to contact you-"

"Yes. Yes." I interrupted. The machine was recording our conversation, but I really couldn't care less. "What happened? How is he?"

"I'm afraid it's rather serious. You should probably get here as soon as possible. We'll go over everything when you get here. Is he an organ donor?"

"Oh, my _God_. I'll be there as fast as I can."

When she asked if I wanted to schedule Last Rites I dropped the phone back into its cradle, grabbed my bag and keys and slammed the door behind me.

In retrospect, from the precise timing of the calls, it occurred to me that they'd somehow been watching my every move. Probably through that big 15th floor picture window in the living room that I loved so much. Maybe from the roof of a nearby building.

But, at the time, I had no idea anybody intended me harm. My only thoughts were of how exactly to prevent myself from becoming a widow.

Back downstairs, I stood next to my car in the underground garage, fumbling with my keys, my hands shaking so hard I actually dropped them.

I was about to retrieve them when the reflection in the driver's side window made me freeze.

A very, very large man was standing just behind me to my right. Our reflected eyes locked and I knew I was in trouble.

Maurice had been teaching me self-defense techniques for a while, and sometimes when the kids were napping we'd practice, but never for very long, because what I really enjoyed about it was just having him and his hands all over me, and he'd get frustrated that I wasn't taking things seriously.

Every now and then he'd surprise me by grabbing me from behind to see if I could break his hold. Sometimes I'd give a half-hearted attempt to break free, but most of the time I'd just lean back into him contentedly. Most of the time that ticked him off.

"What are you going to do if this happens to you? I want you to be able to take care of yourself."

"I'll fight like a lioness." I'd promised.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

And fight like a lioness I did when Bluto grabbed me and placed a cloth over my face.

Chloroform?

What was this, the 70's?

I used everything Maurice had taught me, exhausting myself in the process. The guy was huge, but everything I was doing was working. I'd made him drop the knockout cloth and he'd been struggling to keep me in his grasp. I knew if I got away I could outrun him.I was just about to break free when something heavy and hard smashed me in the head.

Things started to go black very quickly, and my last two thoughts were:

1) Maurice hadn't told me what to do if I got knocked on the head.

2) I hadn't even put shoes on.


	8. Chapter 8

**2 AM, Tuesday**

It had been a hellish night. And it wasn't over until nearly two. All I wanted to do was to get home and straighten things out with Kate.

When I was late getting home – _really _late – she always waited up for me. Because she knew those were the bad nights and she was there for me if I needed to de-stress, whether by sitting and talking or just the good old-fashioned way.

I slammed open the door to the locker room, and damned if she wasn't there, smoothing her hair in the mirror, miraculously fully dressed in a tee shirt and jeans. Serena's eyes caught my angry ones in the mirror. She turned, jauntily, with a self-satisfied smile on her face. She looked prepared for whatever I had. As if she were seven or eight moves ahead of me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," she purred, stroking her hair into place.

"Don't mess with my family."

She shrugged. "All's fair in love and war." She quoted.

"There's no_ love_." I said with disgust, then added, "But you just bought yourself a war."

She smiled at me appreciatively. "I wouldn't have expected anything less from you." She walked toward me, and put her hands on my shoulders. I gave her a rough shove. Her falsely demure eyes snapped up at me with a flash of anger. I didn't like what I saw there. Kate's anger had been clear, pure. Serena's was murky and dark, with a hatred behind it I couldn't fathom.

"That's too bad. We'd be good together. With your attitude and your drive we'd have made a great team." In spite of her actions, I got the sense she wasn't referring to personal involvement _or _police work.

That's when I realized there was something there. Something not quite right.

She wasn't after _me_, her goal was something else.

Something bigger.

More destructive.

"Who _are _you?" I asked. She didn't answer, just turned back to preen in the mirror.

I stared at her for a minute, then turned to go. I wasn't about to change with her there. Anyway, the uniform might soften Kate up a bit.

That's when she said quietly, almost so I couldn't hear, but I was certain she wanted me to: "You messed with _my _family. Now it's my turn. I'll be seeing you later."

I looked back at her, but she ignored me and started applying lipstick.

I left. Maybe Kate and I could figure out this mess together.

* * *

When I got home, I threw my keys on the table and the sound they made seemed far too loud in the total silence. She was gone. Just as she'd said.

"Kate, I can't fix this if you're not here." I sighed.

I looked all over, but she hadn't left a note. She'd probably gone to Mom's, but it was too late to call.

Dropping flat on the sofa, exhausted, I stared at the ceiling and mulled over the last thing Serena had said.

This was _personal_? If it was, that meant she was here deliberately. Who had enough pull or enough money to get her assigned to the 79? Only one person I could think of fit that description. But it couldn't be.

Could it?

And if it was, what would his motive be?

I looked around the room and ended up focusing on the portrait hanging above the little table holding the phone and some kind of spider plant. Kate had just given it to me for Father's Day. Amanda and Mikey in Red Sox jerseys. It made me smile. I was planning to get her the Yankees counterpart by Christmas.

I had been able to take her to one Yankees/ Red Sox game in the Bronx. I'd told her she couldn't wear her Sox ballcap and pullover.

"I'm with a cop. What are they going to do to me?" Then she'd laughed.

"What?"

"I was just imagining you at Fenway. I give you ten minutes before you'd be banned for life." She looked at her rings. "A Yanks/Sox marriage. What was I thinking?"

And I'd realized her ring was red and white: Sox colors. That had been unintentional.

She had made it plain that there was to be _no _diamond - that she was satisfied with a gold band.

I'd gotten her one anyway, with a garnet on each side - January's birthstone - in very late December, about a week before the wedding.

We'd been entangled on the couch one night watching some movie or another, and I'd been holding her hand, so I'd been able to get it on her finger before she knew what I was doing, thus winning _that _Battle of Stubbornness.

She'd cried a little, but I'd known it was the baby making her do it.

And that's when I noticed the light on the answering machine was blinking. I dragged myself over and hit the button. Three messages in all.

The first was Mom, in a conspiratorial whisper, informing me that Kate and the kids were safely tucked away at Sully's cabin. That she and Kate had talked and Kate would be heading back to the city so we could set things right again. I assumed she meant in the morning. She and Sully would watch the kids.

Thanks, Mom.

The next message had me baffled, the third made my heart stop.

The call was so convincing that it made me wonder if I was really lying dead somewhere and this was Hell.

Kate had been here. I couldn't handle hearing the raw panic in her voice. The timestamp on the call was 11:30 pm.

Three hours ago.

This wasn't somebody just wanting her out of the apartment. If so, she'd have been to the hospital and back long before now.

Maybe that's all it was. Maybe after that she'd gone to find me at the precinct, in which case I'd have to kill her for going there at that time of night. I really couldn't _think_.

I tried her cell. It was off.

Maybe she'd been in an accident?

I was kidding myself.

I had to stay calm and do what I knew.

All I could think of to do was to trace her steps, starting with the hospital.

For some reason the building didn't have assigned parking spaces; it was a on a first-come first-served basis, so I had been stuck in a dark corner on the lower level when I'd gotten home.

I walked down the ramp in the silent garage and what I saw stopped me cold.

Kate's car.

Kate's keys.

Not good.

I went over and picked up her keys and turned them over in my hands. They were definitely hers. There was the keychain with the tiny little Glock replica she'd gotten at the shooting range.

Someone had taken her.

I couldn't move. I scanned the portion of the garage I could see from where I was, with futility. It _had _been three hours.

Where the hell do I go from here?

The click of a revolver hammer being cocked next to my head pretty much gave me my answer. This couldn't be mere robbery. It had to be related.

"Don't move."

Didn't dare.

He relieved me of my weapon.

"You wanna see your wife?"

"Where is she?"

"Rocko's taking good care of her."

"_Rocko_? I hope for his sake that's a nickname."

And then I hoped it wasn't.

"Cuff yourself, hands behind you. Use your own." I did, loosely, but he saw that and tightened them right up. He fished in my pocket for the keys then dropped them into his own.

"Car keys." he demanded. I opened my hand and he took Kate's set. "Mine are in my left pocket." I offered. He retrieved those as well.

"What is this all about?"

"Don't worry. This has nothing to do with you. You're just insurance."

So this was about _Kate_? Some investigative piece gone awry? She hadn't written one of those since before we met.

Was my original instinct correct?

I had more questions than answers. A hell of a lot more questions than I'd had this afternoon.

He unlocked Kate's car and had me get in the back. "Get down and stay down." He instructed. I complied.

And he drove. I lay on my back so I could see out the windows, trying to get a feel for where we were headed.

On the way he became conversational, reminding me that I'd gone with him voluntarily, so there could be no kidnapping charge.

I liked that his mind was already on defeat, making allowances for being caught, thinking about maybe not getting out of this. I had a mental advantage already.

But I couldn't map out a strategy until I could find out who was involved and what this was all about.


	9. Chapter 9

Meh. I just can't look at this any more.

**

* * *

**

2:30 AM Tuesday

I woke slowly, lazily almost, but didn't open my eyes. My head was pounding.

Someone was in the room with me. I could hear breathing and the occasional small movement: the rustle of clothing, the slight scrape of a shoe on the floor.

I was lying on my side on what felt like a bed, an I thought it odd that with the fight I'd put up that I wasn't bound in any way. Seemed a little careless. Careless is good: it might work in my favor. Opening my eyes very slightly I could see I was indeed on a heavy metal-framed bed – like a very obsolete hospital bed.

Directly in my line of vision was a six foot metal table. A six-foot man was sitting at the six-foot table in the only chair, a very large weapon on the table in front of him next to what looked to be a two-way radio. He wasn't looking in my direction so I opened my eyes wide and sized him up. I could only see his profile, but I was pretty certain he was my attacker.

He moved abruptly, pushing his chair a little ways back from the table, and I flicked my eyes closed again. I'd better learn as much as I could about my situation before I had to face it.

I'd noticed it seemed to be a windowless basement room, one long fluorescent light smack in the middle of the unfinished ceiling, which was painted dark green and had pipes running across it. Some sort of cabinet stood against the far wall, shrouded in darkness.

The two-way radio told me more than one person was involved. The fact that this guy was sitting here told me he wasn't the one in charge. No evil leader would assign himself guard duty.

The questions: Who? Why? Why _me_?

The radio crackled and a woman's voice hissed, "Rocko!"

Rocko? _Really_?

"Yeah," the guy answered roughly.

"Is she awake yet?"

I could hear him move to look over at me.

"Not yet."

"How hard did you hit her, you buffoon? I hope you didn't put her out permanently."

"She was going to get away. I hit her as hard as I had to, but I didn't want to."

"That's your own fault. You couldn't control an unarmed, unsuspecting woman?"

"She knew what she was doing. And she's strong." He'd grunted.

"Let me know when she's awake," she said tersely and the radio went silent.

Sounds like she's the one in charge.

I lay still, hoping to gather strength. I couldn't tell if the dizziness and nausea could be contributed to the blow on the head or the baby. If it didn't dissipate, maybe I could use it to my advantage, if only just to puke on someone...

After a decent interval, I opened my eyes again. Rocko looked like he was close to dozing. I moved my legs to hang over the side of the bed pulled myself into a sitting position. My bare feet were cold.

Rocko stood quickly, picking up his assault weapon.

He came over and hauled me to my feet. My knees nearly buckled, so he let me sit back down for a couple of minutes.

"Slowly," he said, pulling me to my feet again and guiding me over to the chair he'd just vacated.

"Sit." He said, then radioed that I was conscious.

I was dying to meet my hostess, to get some answers.

"That's a really big gun you have there. How Freudian. Compensating?"

"Want me to make you realize that I'm not?"

"You could _try_." The way I felt, all he'd have to do is jab me in the shoulder with two fingers and I'd crumple.

He came around stared into my eyes. It was a little unnerving. "You're spunky." he commented appreciatively." I like women who can stick up for themselves. And you're strong. "

"I can run real fast, too. Open that door and I'll show you."

"I'll bet you can," he looked me over.

Hm.

His interest could also be something I could use to my advantage later on. "If only we'd met under different circumstances." I winked at him, working my way into a cross-legged position on the chair to help keep my feet warm. Little spark of something in his eyes. Good.

"So, now we talk?" I asked. "What do we talk about?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching me. He shrugged. He obviously had no issue with me, so it had to be the woman. The only alternative was that this had something to do with Maurice. How many hundreds of people had he pissed off in his lifetime? Could there be one stupid and crazy enough to do something like this?

I wondered if I could amuse myself at this guy's expense. Mess with him. What could I do that would make this guy think I was the captive from Hell? Non-stop female chatter can have a very dramatic effect on male behavior. In some cases it takes mere minutes. How much inane babbling would drive him nuts? Or maybe it would just look like I was a little insane.

"We have to talk about something fun." I mused. "Annndd....what could be more fun than....Jimmy Buffet?" I picked randomly. "What's your absolute favorite Jimmy Buffet song?"

"I don't know. _Volcano?"_

Ha. That was actually funny, and he didn't realize it. This could be a lot more fun than I thought.

_"_Is that a question or a statement, because you sound like you're not sure..." I said quickly, pointing like a carnival huckster trying to reel in an easy mark. Like Harold Hill trying to sell band instruments in River City.

"It's _Volcano." _He confirmed slowly, uncertainly.

"Interesting choice, interesting choice. That's a very controversial song, _rife_ with conflict. I'd like to start a lively debate about the merits of his assertions in that song. For example, I do agree that I don't want to go the San Juan airport. The runway is rather short and landings are brutal. But I have to disagree about Buzzard's Bay. That's right where the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute is located, home of none other than Robert Ballard, who found the remains of the Titanic, a great tragedy that I feel very passionately about. How do _you_ feel about that?"

He was looking at me as if he wasn't sure _what _to feel about anything. He probably thought he'd bumped me too hard on the head. Maybe he had.

He was spared further confusion by the sound of a key scraping in the lock of what looked like a very formidable door. It swung open.

The woman stepped in, wearing jeans and a tee shirt, gun at her hip. It was the second time in twelve hours that she'd surprised me.

"You must be Nurse Ratched. How the hell are you?" I said, trying to sound unsurprised.

"Surprised?" She asked.

"No. Not at all. When you've gone after a woman's husband, kidnapping her is _always _the next logical step. It's right there in the Evil Genius playbook." I paused. "You seem hell-bent on making my life miserable. Mind if I ask why?"

"You don't remember me?"

I studied her face. It clicked. I knew who she was. "Nope."

"Serena Belliard." She prompted.

I gave it a minute then shook my head. "Nothing. Sorry."

That vexed her. She slapped the table. "From _Chicago_."

I looked at her slyly, "You can't fool me. That was Catherine Zeta-Jones."

She looked like she was about to hit me.

"Ohhhh," I said exaggeratedly, "_Little _Serena! Jakey's kid sister! You were always tagging along with us. How've you _been_? How's Jake doing? _Look _at you, all grown up! And a cop, no less. Your parents must

be-"

"You destroyed him." She interrupted levelly, a menacing look on her face.

I sat back, acting relaxed. "You're going to have to be more specific. I've destroyed so _many_." I couldn't reign in the sarcasm.

She just gave me a sullen stare. "I loved him and you destroyed him."

"If you are, _unbelievably_, talking about Evan, he destroyed himself."

"You got him killed."

"He got _himself _killed." I clarified.

"I'm going to destroy you like you destroyed him. I'm going to take your man, like you took mine-"

"Oh, honey, if I could turn back time, Evan would be _all_ yours. As for that other thing, good luck with that."

She leaned on the table toward me. "You know, I didn't think I wanted him at first, I just wanted to hurt _you_, but I've decided I do want him after all. If only to _corrupt_ him. To make him compromise what he believes in, what he values. He'll be a perfect fit for our organization. He's exactly what I need."

Organization. So, this wasn't _strictly_ personal.

"What a coincidence. He's exactly what _I_ need. And you don't get to have him."

"He'll need someone to turn to when you turn up dead."

"He's got Mom." I pointed out.

"A mother can't give a man everything he needs." She provoked.

"How very one-dimensional of you. You have no _idea_ what a man needs. You can just forget about it. He's all about doing the right thing."

"That's why it will be such a pleasure. With the right motivation, _anyone_ can be corrupted."

"Like you? Dirty Chicago cop. A six-foot, two hundred fifty pounder named 'Rocko'? Got any other clichés lying around?"

She leaned over me and smiled a wicked smile. "Try 'unidentified female Caucasian with a GSW to the head'." Her eyes told me this was no bluff. She continued. "I'm going to come right out and tell you that this is your last day."

I thought about that for a minute. A minute was all I could give it. Otherwise I might start to believe it, and then I 'd be useless.

But I _did _suppose that, with nothing to lose, it was my turn to provoke a reaction. "All this because you had some silly school-girl crush on _**my** boyfriend_?"

She slammed her fist on the table. "I _loved _him! I _always _loved him! But he chose _you_!"

"You were just a _kid_!" I reminded her.

"When you left, I was there to pick up the pieces. _I _helped him. _I _cared for him. _I _loved him."

"At least you were legal by then." I jabbed.

She leaned on the table, right in close, looking me right in the eye, and said very slowly, "Look at _this_! We have something in common. He was _my _first, too."

I shook my head, "He _wasn't _-"

"He told me what he did." She snapped. "And I was _glad_. He should have beaten you to _death_."

As far as I could tell, she and Evan deserved each other completely.

Rocko was looking from Serena to me and back again. I wondered what he was thinking.

She continued, pacing. "Anyway, it was all about _you_. He couldn't stand that you left him – he couldn't let it go. Then he finally found you in New York and you got him killed."

"He got himself killed," I reminded her, "because he was a control freak."

"You took him away from me _again_." She hissed.

"Doesn't sound like you ever had him to _begin_ with." I swear to God, it was like being in the interrogation room with Maurice that first night – I just couldn't stop myself.

She backhanded me across the face, bringing tears to my eyes but I blinked them back. No way in hell I'd let her see.

"I'm here to do what Evan's father _should _have done. You didn't actually put him away, so he didn't come after you. But he should have."

"The Benedicts are honorable that way." I said sarcastically. "What makes you feel the need to insert yourself into his business?" I asked.

"All in good time."

"So, we're through for now?"

"For now. Now we wait."

"For what?" I wondered what she wanted from me, why I was still breathing. I had _no_ doubt that if I didn't find some way out of this, it was all over.

She just smiled and left, closing the door.

So, I had the 'who' and the 'why', but I wasn't certain I had the _whole_ 'why'. And I certainly didn't have the 'why _now_?'_. _And had she done something to Maurice? Was he home? Had he heard the messages? Maybe he hadn't.

I straightened. Back to being the prisoner from hell.

I looked over at Rocko. "Hope you like music." He kind of nodded, bewildered.

I'd decided on show tunes. Something positive, just to let her know I was not yet defeated.

I started singing _Annie_'s 'Tomorrow' at the top of my lungs.


	10. Chapter 10

**3:00 AM TUESDAY**

I couldn't see water, but I could tell it was nearby, and by the look of things, I thought we might be in Jersey. If that was the case, and Kate was here, whoever was responsible for this would be answering not only to state and local officials, but would face federal charges as well. That fact didn't seem to bother them, which was disturbing.

He'd parked behind an abandoned five-story brick industrial building of some sort. A mill, a storage facility…most of the surrounding buildings looked abandoned, too. The whole area seemed deserted. There was no hope for outside help. We were on our own.

Just before we entered the building, the guy turned me around, pushed me up against the brick wall and delivered about a half a dozen body blows, either to try to take some of the fight out of me, or just for the hell of it. Or both. I couldn't tell by his smile, but I am pretty sure he cracked a rib.

He unlocked a heavy door on the loading dock, shoved me into darkness and, stepped in behind me, pulling the door closed with a clang. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust. There _was _light, but it was dim and distant. He pushed me along a long hallway and down a flight of damp and dripping stairs. The continual drip of water hitting water was ominous, and was the only sound I could identify other than our movement.

I didn't know who and I didn't know why, but at least I knew Kate was here and she seemed to be okay. In a distant room I could hear her practically yelling a song from _The Sound of Music. _

'The Lonely Goatherd.' And she was doing a damn good job of it, too.

The lighting was dim and I pretty much had to squint at what was ahead of me as the guy prodded me along. There were pools of water here and there and I wondered about the structural integrity of the building.

At one point I heard a heavy door slam open and someone yelled' "Shut up! Shut up!" and when she didn't I heard the smack of flesh upon flesh and Kate did shut up.

But only for about ten seconds. She came back, steely and determined, and I could almost _hear_ that her teeth were clenched, with the Jet's song from _West Side Story_. Nothing like a little Bernstein to keep your captors off-balance. I laughed a little and the guy gave me a hard shove to the back that made me breathe sharply at the pain on my left side. If not cracked, definitely bruised.

She was barely twenty seconds into the song before I heard the smacking sound again.

Someone was going to pay for that. I didn't know how, but I would make it happen.

As we got closer I could see, farther down the hall, an open door with some light spilling out. It seemed to be our destination.

As we approached the door a woman stepped out and faced us, arms crossed. She'd taken a step forward out of the light so all I could see was her silhouette, and the fact that she was armed.

We came up close and I found myself, incredibly, facing Serena again.

Now I _really _didn't know what this was about.

'Thank you, Victor." She said to my captor, who was _way _too close behind me, one hand on my right shoulder, the other holding my cuffed wrists.

Victor. _Classic_ 'Bad Guy' name.

"I told you I'd see you later." And the freakishly strong Serena took hold of my arms and hauled me into the light spilling out from the doorway, Victor right on my heels. She stepped forward, grabbed my face in both her hands and kissed me again, in what I assumed was a performance for Kate's benefit.

I couldn't even make an attempt to step back because of Victor.

She released me and, this time, I had the presence of mind to calmly and deliberately spit her saliva back in her face, and wipe my mouth on my shoulder.

Someone coughed out a little laugh from inside the room to my left and I dared to glance over. Kate was seated at a table, very pale, unbound hands flat on the tabletop, trembling a little, and I couldn't tell if it was from the seriousness of the situation, or the damp and cold: she was wearing only a tee shirt and shorts. And why was she _barefoot_?

It was pretty clear by her expression that she'd worked through things and Serena was no longer an issue between us. Still, Serena shot her a look that was pure evil.

Kate's guard, 'Rocko', I assumed, was bent solicitously over her, his weapon resting harmlessly on the table inches from her hands, pressing one of his hands against her cheek where she'd been struck, the other using his sleeve to dab blood from the corner of her mouth. Kate lifted her gaze to his and smiled her thanks.

It looked like Kate had already partially won over her guard, and that told me our strategy had to be precisely what Serena had been attempting with us: divide and conquer. I needed to make them think Kate and I were still at odds. Kate had already gotten Rocko's sympathy; if I behaved like a bully toward her, he'd just get more protective. He'd be easy – she'd already gotten that game going. It would be more difficult to convince Serena I was interested in anything she had to say.

I didn't know how I was going to make Kate understand what needed to be done, but I had to do it right away. I couldn't let her speak until she knew how things had to go.

At Serena's gesture, Victor shoved me into the room and Rocko retrieved his weapon and stepped back. All business with Serena there. I took inventory of the room and saw nothing we could use to our advantage, unless Kate could manage to flip the table over onto our petite friend. I doubted it.

Kate looked at me, eyes wide, luminous with tears ready.

I hated what I had to do.

She was about to say something.

"Shut up!" I said viciously, angrily, and she looked as if _I'd_ slapped her.

Serena pointed. "Cuff him to the bed frame." Victor gave me shove off to the left and Serena eyed Kate, then Rocko.

Victor sat me on the bed, uncuffed one of my wrists, looped the cuffs around the thickest part of the frame and shackled me back up. I was incapacitated. All I had at my disposal was words.

An involuntary tear rolled down Kate's right cheek. I knew how much that cost her. She was struggling to hold the rest back.

Her guard stepped forward and wiped it away with two fingers, giving me an accusing look. I didn't know how to get Kate and I on the same page.

"Last chance, sweetie," Serena said, lifting my chin. "You know what they say: 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em'."

I glared over at Kate. "I'll _think_ about it." That ought to buy us a little time.

Serena stepped back and crossed her arms. "Really." She looked smugly from me to Kate, who looked more than a little shell-shocked.

Kate was giving me a look of pain and desperation. Again, she started to say something.

"Shut up," I warned. "You keep your mouth shut and you listen to every word I have to say."

I don't know if it was the way I phrased it or my tone, but it caught her attention. She bit her lip and looked at me both warily and broken-heartedly.

"You," I said accusingly, but giving certain words emphasis, "let them _divide _us. _Separate_ us. So they could take us down _one at a time_." I flicked my eyes to Rocko and back to Kate. She got it.

"_I _let them?" she snapped, rising from her chair. Rocko guided her back into her seat. "_I _wasn't the one caught kissing a whore." She hissed pointedly to Serena, and I winced, fully expected her to receive another slap to the face, but Serena just seemed to enjoy watching us argue.

"You made assumptions. You didn't believe in me." I spat angrily.

"What the hell was I _supposed_ to think? How did you _expect_ me to react?" Kate made her voice rise shrilly, comically. We'd disagreed on some things, but it had never been like this. We had to get out of this and have a good laugh about it. I didn't know how things were going to go and I didn't want my last words to Kate to be in anger, manufactured or not.

"You didn't _believe _in me." I said fiercely through my teeth. Her eyes softened for a moment, in apology. Then hardened:

"I _still_ don't! Want to tell me where you went after you left? Did you go to work or did the two of you just go hook up somewhere?" Kate demanded.

""That's exactly what I'm talking about!" I yelled back. " And who the hell are _you _to talk? I seem to remember you had a few extra half-hour sessions with your personal trainer that _that _body does _not _account for!" Who the hell was I kidding? They could see she was perfect.

Kate's right eyebrow rose, and I could see the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth as if to say, "Oooh, I get a _personal trainer_?!" And she looked ready to escalate things. This was _almost _fun.

"Listen, T.J. Hooker -" she began sarcastically, but Serena stepped between us. Which was a good thing because that reference almost made me laugh out loud.

"Please. We have business to discuss." Serena said.

"Oh, honey, I'm not finished with _this _business." Kate said, with a warning tone, starting again to rise from her chair. Rocko placed his hand on her shoulder and she sat back down with a defeated look.

Business? I _still_ didn't really know why we were here.

Serena placed both her hands on the table, elbows locked and leaned intimidatingly over Kate.

"You seem to have forgotten what I told you, sweetie. This _is _your last day. Now, depending on how well you cooperate, I can make it quick and painless, or I can let Victor and Rocko take their time with you." Was that an attempt to terrorize Kate with her past? How would she _know_ that?

"I won't." Rocko spoke up resolutely. "I won't do that." Kate shot him a quick, but sweet, grateful smile, managing to lookincredibly vulnerable at the same time. She was good.

"No matter. Victor's more than enough."

"What is it exactly that I have to cooperate with? Are you going to fill us in on what this is all about, or-"

Serena slapped the table hard with her hand. "Where is it?" she demanded.

"South Dakota." Kate replied smartly, randomly.

"Where_ is_ it?"

"Where is _what_?" Kate snapped. It looked as though she'd had just about enough and was ready to lunge across the table at Serena. Oh, please don't.

"What Evan gave you." Oh, Lord. _Evan?_

Kate leaned forward, gripping the table, hands white from the effort to keep them there. She gave Serena a stare that would have had _me _back up a couple of steps.

"Evan," She said tightly, "_gave_ me a beating and three years of self-imposed exile. If that's what you're really after, I'll be _more _than happy to supply the beating!"

Serena backhanded her again. Oh, I was going to kill her. Out of the corner of my eye I'd seen Rocko move a little bit, as if he was thinking of intervening. What was this – reverse Stockholm syndrome? Kate had really roped him in quickly.

"Where is the flash drive Evan gave you?" Serena slapped the table again and Kate spit blood right next to her hand.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"His father knew he had it – he sent us after him. Evan knew we were here. We thought he'd hidden it in your apartment to keep it from us."

"So you tore the place apart." I acknowledged. Serena glanced back at me and gave a curt nod.

"Clearly he didn't." Kate said.

"Clearly he gave it to _you_. It's what he was coming back for the night he was killed. Where is it? A safe-deposit box?"

He hadn't given it to Kate. He _must have _hidden it in her apartment.

I had a pretty good idea where it was. Aside from Kate, there were only three things we had that were ever in that apartment.

"What's on the flash drive?" Kate asked. "Why is it so important?" Kate was smart to try to keep her talking, to delay.

"The keys to the kingdom." Serena answered.

Kingdom? Evan Benedict II's _kingdom_?

"The Benedict crime dynasty? What interest could you possibly have in that?"

"My mother married him. Six years ago."

Kate grimaced, while Serena continued.

"_He's_ in jail. _She's_ dying. It's the perfect time for me to step in and take things over-"

Kate snorted. "So, Chicago's next crime boss is a _tiny little woman_."

"He destroyed all his records. Everything I need is on that flash drive. _Almost _everything." She turned to me. "I need a right-hand man. I've decided that's you."

"You are so _stupid_!" I hollered at Kate. "I _told _you we should have taken care of this years ago. I _told_ you someone would come after it. But, no, you wanted to wait." I was bluffing like crazy, and I hoped Kate would help me out.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kate said coolly, haughtily, looking away.

"I'm talking about moving the money." That got everyone's attention.

"And where were we supposed to put it?" She asked sarcastically. "A New York City cop with a 'couple a mil' in savings? No red flags there!"

Serena watched our debate with interest. "Money?"

"Bank accounts in other countries." I said as an aside and turned my attention back to Kate. "All we had to do was create a new account in the same bank and transfer funds _there_. No one would have known."

"And yet we'd _still be **here**_." She reminded me.

"I didn't know about any foreign accounts." Serena frowned.

"You want the flash drive? I'll show you where it is." An opportunity to get unhitched from this bed frame.

"You'll _tell _me where it is and I'll go get it." Serena demanded. Victor took Kate's keys and mine out of his pocket and tossed them on the table.

It could be in one of three places. That left the city skylines. I took a chance that Evan was as unimaginative as they come.

"It's tucked into the back of the frame of the Chicago skyline photograph in the bedroom."

Kate looked at me in shock, which I hoped they interpreted as betrayal.

How did I know that, she asked without words. I gave her a very slight shoulder shrug. I didn't. I'd guessed.

Serena leaned in close. "If you're lying, you will get to _watch _her die. If you're not, you _might_ have a future." She turned and grabbed both sets of keys off the table, gestured to Victor to follow her and left us alone with Rocko.

I guessed this was probably the only chance we'd have. If they came back with the flash drive they wouldn't need either of us any more.

I hoped I'd done the right thing.


	11. Chapter 11

The little key for the cuffs was right in the center of the table and Kate was eyeing it.

She shifted, turning toward me a little so she could see Rocko out of the corner of her eye and attempted to block his view of the key with her forearm.

"Gee, Officer Krupke, what _now_?" She said sarcastically, directing her attention, and hopefully his, to me.

I shrugged. "It sounds like if I play her game I'll be fine. It's you who should worry." What did she think she was going to do with the key? Throw it at me? Nonchalantly walk on over here? He'd be all over her before she could get close. Still, at the moment, it was the only opportunity available.

"Sounds like you're saying I'm on my own."

I rattled the handcuffs. "You looking for me to _do _something?"

Kate's chanced a glance at Rocko, who sidled casually over, plucked the key off the table, and, putting it in his pocket, gave her a look that said, "Nice try." He was observant, disciplined for the most part…he'd had some sort of training.

Kate looked down at her hands, clearly vexed. Rocko went back to his place: up against the brick wall a little bit behind her.

She'd untucked her legs and tentatively put her toes on the floor. _I_ could tell she was cold, why couldn't he? She was beginning to look uncertain and defeated.

Don't give up, Kate. Believe we'll get out of this.

This guy obviously had sympathy for her. How could I exploit that, make it work against him? By attacking again and making him fell sorry for her.

"Can I ask you – why is it always _your _past that's the problem? What is it about you that makes people so crazy they spend years of their time trying to get back at you? _I_ tick people off all the time and I've _never _had anyone do something like this."

"Maybe they don't think you're worth the trouble." Kate snapped.

"I mean, I even have an ex who'd _love _to see me dead."

"You also have an almost-ex who'd love to see the same thing."

Kate! Be more of a _victim_!

"There are so many things about you I hate."

"Gimme a list."

Oh, she was going to make me _think_? This would be a disaster. She was better at this than I was.

"Well, for starters, when you cook, you chop the vegetables too big. That drives me crazy."

Her face said, "That was lame."

_She _said, "With your mouth that shouldn't be a problem." Rocko tried to hide a smile. No, no, no. This was not the way things were supposed to go. How do I make her understand?

"How about this: you've turned your four-year –old daughter into an entitlement machine. She's a spoiled little bitch, just like you." That made him frown and Kate suck in her breath. She stared at me for a minute, thinking, and I could see her trying to figure out what I was trying to do.

Finally, I could see her eyes well up with tears. "How could you do that?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, "How could you bring the kids into this?" She exhaled and blinked up at the ceiling in an effort to keep the tears _in _her eyes. She looked back at me and let two tears roll down her right cheek. Way to go, Garbo.

Why she'd chosen to be behind the page instead of in front of the camera, I'll never know.

"That's enough." Rocko stepped between us.

"Do you _mind_? I'm talking to my wife."

He didn't move. Said nothing.

"What, you can keep a woman captive, but you can't handle it if she _cries_?"

He pointed a finger at me. "I do _not_ like you, sir."

_Sir_? Finally the respect I deserved.

"Join the club." Kate coughed, letting the tears flow freely. How did she _do _that?

He turned to her, and she sniffled, and when she looked up at him he realized his sleeves would be woefully inadequate this time.

"I'll go get something." He said, and left quickly, slamming the door behind him. Did he expect to find a box of tissues in an abandoned building?

"Check the door." I said.

"It's got to be locked," Kate said, trying it anyway, with no luck.

"What are we going to _do_?" She asked desperately, coming over to me and taking my face in her hands.

"I don't know. You've got to get me loose. There's no way _you _can take that guy down!"

"With all due respect, hon, he's a _really _big guy and you're not armed-"

"David and Goliath, baby."

"He'd kill you. I don't think he'll hurt me."

"What are you thinking of doing?"

"Reducing his child-bearing capabilities."

"That won't do it –you need to get that key and have enough time to get me out of these."

"Let me think." She said, and the look in her eyes made my stomach ache. She kissed me.

She whispered, "I love you." And she stepped back, knowing we didn't have much time left before he returned.

"I know." I said, and she smiled and gave me a look that was so pure and innocent that it reminded me of the Kate I knew back when I wanted what I thought I could never have.

"_Empire Strikes Back_." She said, and we heard the key scrape in the lock, she leaped back over to the chair.

When Rocko came back in, Kate was sitting, head bowed, hands in her lap, actually sobbing. In spite of her hair hanging in her face I could see actual tears dripping down onto her hands.

He gave me a 'What did you do?" look and brought, of all things, a golf towel over to her.

She looked up at him, mascara smearing her face. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

"My car. It's clean." He offered.

"Thank you," she said. Kate patted at her face and gave a few shuddering breaths that seemed very real. Was she acting, or had she worked herself up that much?

"You seem to be a pretty nice guy." She looked at him gratefully. "How'd you get involved in something like this?"

"I worked security for Mr. Benedict. About a month ago, she just kinda came in and took over."

"And that's when you decided kidnapping was something you were okay with?" Kate was using a very gentle, coaxing tone.

He cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, actually not all that okay with it."

"Yet you hit me in the head." Kate said in the same reasonable tone.

He gave a look that was both pleading and apologetic. "I didn't want to, but you fought so _hard_… It was all I could think of to do."

"You could have just let me go," Kate said, and paused. "You could just let me go now."

He shook his head. "Can't. I'd never survive it."

"You could come, too." Kate suggested.

"I'm not going to live with this guy!" I protested.

"I don't believe I included you." Kate said coolly, and turned back to him. "I know how to disappear. I've done it before. She'd never find you. And _this_ guy can only find people by accident." Well, that almost hurt.

For a moment the guy actually looked as though he were considering it.

Kate watched his thought process and, when he looked as though he was about to rule it all out, she jumped back in, asking him if 'Rocko' was really his name.

"No, my last name is Rockwell. My friends turned it into a nickname when I was a kid."

"Really? Turning your last name into a nickname….you shouldn't let them do that - it really makes you sound kinda _stupid_." She was looking at him very seriously, but I could tell she was having a hard time not smiling.

I had to cough to cover a laugh.

Nice. And gratuitous. We'd have to have a conversation about that little comment later.

"What's your name?" she asked gently.

"Michael.'

She bit her lip. "That's my son's name. Michael." She mused, looking at the floor. When she looked back up at him, she was giving him the look she used with me any time I really didn't want to do something. The one that always got me.

The one she used whenever she wanted us all to go visit Sully at the cabin for the day.

"He's a year old and I'd like to see him again. Do you think I'll be able see him again, Michael?"

"That's not my call." He said, not without sympathy. His eyes never left hers.

She nodded and turned her head away a little and I could see him studying her profile, the graceful way she held herself in spite of the circumstances.

"But it could be." I pointed out. "Look, you've only known her for a couple of hours, but I can tell that you know she doesn't deserve this."

Kate was giving me a fierce look: shut up!

"I don't care what happens to me, but she's a mother to two children and they need her. She's a good person, and she doesn't have a deceptive bone in her body. Let her go and I'll back up whatever story you want to give."

He looked at me sharply. He'd figured out our game.

No.

I'd given it away.

Kate dropped her head back, eyes closed and massaged her temples.

We were back at square one.


	12. Chapter 12

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

Kate looked back over at me, a little sympathetically.

"I went to the range without you the other day." She confessed, smile soft. "It felt like cheating."

She was trying to be nice, but to me it sounded like, "I still love you even though you're stupid."

"Try anything new?"

"I stuck with the .38."

"You didn't like the Glock."

"It was okay, but it's not my best friend or anything. I guess I just prefer the revolver."

"You and Sully." I shook my head.

Michael Rockwell looked at Kate with interest. Well, _more _interest. She'd been right. His nickname _did_ make him sound stupid.

"You've fired a weapon?"

She sat up straight, offended. "I've fired _several_." She gestured at his gun. "Including one like that, once. I mean, I fired it many _times_ on one _occasion_. I've also tried a crossbow and…" she looked up at the ceiling, in thought, "Oh! I took fencing in college, for a half a semester."

"We had a cardboard tube battle last Christmas, and she killed me." I admitted. "Don't let her distract you. That's when she'll get you."

Kate looked back at me quickly and I could tell she'd gotten an idea.

I didn't want her to have an idea, because if she had an idea, it meant she'd act on it.

She looked down at her feet, a little smile on her face, and it looked as though she was thinking things through.

Finally, she drew her shoulders back and cracked her neck.

I couldn't stand that sound. It made my teeth ache.

She stretched, raising her clasped hands above her head.

"I'm sorry," she said in apology, extending her legs straight out and flexing and pointing her toes alternately. "I have two small children and I'm not used to being still for such a long period of time. And you wouldn't let me sprint down the hall..."

She suddenly jumped up with a cry of agony, and stood on her right leg, favoring her left.

Rockwell looked startled and alarmed at the same time. "What?!" he demanded.

"It's a cramp! Oh my God!" She put her hand on the table for support. "Hamstring. This is no good," she said in a panic, hopping on her right leg, grimacing and gripping a fistful of her own hair.

"Help her!" I yelled at him. Her expression said the pain was real, but this was just too convenient.

"What do you need?" he started toward her, but she was already hopping in his direction.

"Please," she pleaded, gesturing at me, "I need to stretch. He helps me with this all the time. Can you let him go - just for a minute? Please."

He shook his head. "No _way_."

"Then _you _have to help me." She said desperately, grabbing his shoulders right near the collarbones and squeezing. I could see him wince. I knew that hurt: I'd been giving Boo a piggy-back ride one day and she'd grabbed me there and pinched. I'd almost dropped her.

"What do you want me to do?" She let go of him, giving him a little shove, so he was right back up against the brick wall. What the hell was she doing?

"Can you do this?" She asked, lacing her hands together. He set his weapon down on the floor and did, waist high. She put her heel in his palms. "Okay, now you need to push my knee _up_. " He tried, I'll give him that, but he just wasn't sure what to do. Finally, a little impatiently, Kate snapped at him, "Just grab my leg and _do _it!" He grabbed her ankle with both hands. She was only about two feet away from him, leg bent neatly in half close to chest level.

Brilliant. In seconds she'd had him disarmed, confused, off-balance, distracted and to top it all off he had his hands full.

"You've been decent." She said, looking him right in the eye. "I'm really sorry about this." He looked perplexed, but only for a second.

Because sweet, elegant, womanly Kate, using every bit of her strength, drove the heel of her hand right up under his chin, which cracked the back of his head right into the brick wall behind him. And _that _was not a pleasant sound either. That was going to produce quite a headache, if not a concussion.

She hopped a little to keep her balance as she watched him slide to the floor. "Huh", She huffed, with a dazed look that questioned if she'd really just done that.

"Army of One." I concurred. "And I warned him and everything."

I wondered what kind of cop she would have made, but the only image I could come up with was Kate patrolling a street in Candyland, handing out vanilla ice cream cones to little boys, rescuing kittens from trees and returning lost puppies to teary eyed girls. With gift bows. God I was exhausted. With escape so close, I suddenly felt an adrenaline deficit.

She dug into his left pocket for the key to the handcuffs and came over quickly to release me.

"Dammit!" she grunted, struggling to work the key. "Here I have you handcuffed to a bed and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

"You're making _jokes_?"

"Who's joking? I kind of like you helpless."

"Then ask me to paint a room." I grumbled.

"That's not helpless, that's _disastrous_."

She finally got the key to work. "See?"She indicated our unconscious friend. "I pay attention to all your little lessons."

"If that's the case, how'd they manage to get you in the first place?"

She frowned. "He hit me in the head. How'd they get _you_, Van Damme?"

"He told me they had you."

"Oh." she said simply.

I stood and dangled the cuffs out to her from my index finger. "It's all you."

"Really?"

"_You_ dropped him." She smiled like a giddy little kid and went over to him.

"Um, he's bleeding. Can we at least put him on the bed?"

"That's some killer instinct you have there." I observed.

"Come on, what can it hurt?"

"Fine." We lifted him onto the bed and she cuffed his right wrist to the bed frame.

"I hope he'll be okay." She stood looking down at him, then tried to arrange his head comfortably on the pillow.

"Let's just get out of here before they get back. Where in the world did you get the idea to do that?"

"I just asked myself 'what would Bosco do'?" Right. That was exactly what I would have done.

I grabbed her arm. "Yeah. Hold on. What's the deal with the comment about the nicknames?"

" Well, 'Bosco' is George Costanza's ATM code. When I hear that word, I think of George. It's kind of a mood-killer."

But she was teasing.

"I was just trying to make my own fun." She squeezed my face with one hand and kissed me.

The door slammed open, making us both jump. Kate clung to me.

"Isn't that sweet." Serena said snidely. She was in the doorway, gun drawn, Victor just behind her.

Damn. So close.

Mistake #1? I should have had Kate secure his weapon before releasing me.

Mistake #2? Having a conversation at a standstill instead of at a full sprint.

Mistake #3? Haven't made that one yet.


	13. Chapter 13

Serena stepped into the room and assessed the situation while Victor covered us with a very impressive and very, very nice assault rifle.

She prodded Michael in the chest with her gun, a look of disgust on her face. The amount of blood seeping into the pillow was starting to alarm me. What had I done?

"He needs medical attention." I told her. "I think I really hurt him. I didn't mean to."

Serena went back over to Michael and tugged the pillow up so I could no longer see his face. Before I could realize what she was doing or react to it, she pressed the pistol into the pillow and fired twice.

I was in shock.

"What did you _do_?" I whispered, then screamed. "Why did you do that?" I launched myself at her. When Maurice stepped in front of me and snagged me by the waist it was like running into granite.

"Don't." He said in my ear. "It's what she wants."

"How could she?" I sobbed, sagging into him. "What is _wrong _with you?!" I yelled at her over his shoulder, struggling to break free.

"What's wrong with _you_?" Maurice asked evenly, tensely. "Calm down."

"She just _killed _him!" I exclaimed, then turned to her. "How could you _do _that?"

"He let _you _get the best of him. What use is he to me?"

"He's a human _being_! He's useful to _someone_!" I yelled, then pointed at her, "It's _you _who's not-"

"_Kate_!" Maurice said sharply. It was the first time in a _very _long time he'd raised his voice to me and it caught my attention.

I stopped and looked at him. He wiped the tears off my face a little roughly. "I need you to keep it together." He said quietly.

"I've been keeping it together all night-" I began.

"I know you have."

"I can't – I'm so tired – and I'm so-"

"You _can,"_ he stressed. "I _know_ you can."

"Take him upstairs." Serena directed Victor, who stepped up behind him.

"No." I declared, grabbing Maurice's shirt in both fists.

With the muzzle of an assault rifle at the back of his head, there wasn't much more that he could do than to gently detach me and push me away.

Victor gave him a shove toward the door.

I really wished he hadn't asked me to keep it together because what I really wanted to do was go nuts and just have it all be over. I really didn't think I could do this anymore.

Maurice stopped at the door and said one word: "Evan."

Oh.

He wanted me to be the way I'd been on the roof that night – wanted me to not only be in control of myself, but in control of the situation.

Except that I'd had nothing to lose that night. This was a very different night.

I didn't know if I could do what he was asking. I _knew _Evan. I had no idea who Serena was or how to manipulate her, not to mention that I'd just watched her murder a man in cold blood.

I tried to nod. I could see that he believed I could do it, but I wasn't certain that I could.

So, I wiped my face one more time and turned resolutely to Serena, whose gun was back on her hip. But her fingers tapped at it restlessly.

"Please," she invited. "Do something stupid."

"You have absolutely no fear of consequences, do you?" I asked, indicating Michael's body. "No human decency."

"Your human decency obviously hasn't gotten you very far in life."

"No? Let's see. _You're_ a miserable, selfish narcissist, and yet _I'm_ pretty damn happy in life."

"Perhaps. But that life has gone as far as it's going to go."

"You keep saying that and yet here I stand." Okay. I was coming back.

"I can take care of you _any_time."

"What are you waiting for?" Easy, Kate – he didn't expect you to provoke her to violence. At least not so soon.

"I'm not certain that you've suffered _enough_." She said, strolling over to the door . "I'll be back." And she slammed the door behind her.

Immediately, I went over to the bed and put my hand on Michael's chest, just to be sure. Nothing. Oh, God.

I couldn't bring myself to remove that pillow from his face. I couldn't bear to see what she'd done.

What _I'd_ done. I'd done this to him. This was my fault.

There was no more sobbing, the tears just ran. I was going to go back to the chair, but my rebellious nature wouldn't let me. I sat cross-legged on the table waiting for her.

Without warning I heard two sharp cracks from upstairs, then nothing more. I looked up at the ceiling, willing it to reveal what had happened.

Silence.

I jumped off the table and paced fretfully, imagining every conceivable scenario.

What did this mean? I was numb. I couldn't think.

It was mere minutes, but it felt like hours before I heard the key in the lock.

Serena came back in, throwing the door wide in triumph, eyes gleaming.

"What was that?" I demanded.

She said nothing, and just walked, eyeing me, to the far side of the table, so I had my back to the open door.

She smacked her hand down on the table between us and it made a hard sound.

My eyes never left hers, even when she straightened.

"Look." She said simply.

I glanced down.

His ring.


	14. Chapter 14

Victor had locked me in a room alone. It was completely empty windowless, dim, and was painted a horrendous 1950's hospital green. I slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor, elbows on my knees, hands on my forehead. _Think_.

I had been in there about ten minutes or so when I heard someone at the door. I stood, not knowing what to expect.

The door flew open. Serena came in, gun drawn and fired two rounds into the wall just to my left.

"Geez!" I jumped. "What the hell!"

She advanced quickly across the room, grabbed my left hand and surprised the hell out of me by yanking my ring off.

"I've decided this is going to be a murder-suicide. I just haven't decided which way it's going to go. Maybe _this_," she held up the ring, "will just make it suicide-suicide."

Ah, don't believe it, Kate.

* * *

When she'd thrown his wedding band on the table, I felt all the life go out of me.

It couldn't be.

He'd never have handed that over willingly.

I picked it up.

…to be _sure_.

Names and dates engraved on the inside. It was his.

I slid it onto my thumb. She didn't get to have it.

"I told you you'd pay," she said.

"Nobody's going to pay more than you." And I smiled serenely at her, because I really believed it was true. Maybe exhaustion was making me insane, or maybe it was the baby. But she stepped back, a little disconcerted by my behavior.

"Yeah," I said, advancing to the table, and placing my hands on it, hard, "I was taught that you can do whatever you want in life as long as you are prepared to accept the consequences." I paused. "Are _you _prepared to accept the consequences of your actions, Serena?"

She just glared at me, placed her hands on the table and leaned toward _me_.

And we both heard the single gunshot upstairs.

It was like a movie:

We both looked up at the ceiling, then back at each other.

I could see the doubt in her eyes and I knew she was a liar.

I started to grin. "If you wanted me to believe it, you should have brought his whole _hand_."

Neither one of us _really _knew which man was coming down those stairs.

She lunged at me over the table, and I grabbed her by the throat with my right hand. And squeezed. My arms were longer than hers, so I was able to lock my elbow and hold her off. She was crouched on the table, leaning into me.

Her right hand went for her weapon, and I covered it with my left, holding her hand in place.

"Let's see," I said, squeezing as hard as I could. "Will I choke you unconscious, or will you be able to get your gun free and shoot me?"

Her left hand clawed at the one I had at her throat. That being unsuccessful, she reached forward and scratched at my face, causing me to flinch. I leaned back, and in the process lost my grip on her right hand. She fumbled with it a little, but drew her weapon and fired. The sound it made in that small room was deafening. I'd heard that if you're stabbed the right way you hardly feel it, but with a bullet, I fully expected to feel _something. _I didn't feel _any_thing.

Serena's face had a surprised look and there was a little hole right in the middle of her forehead and she was falling toward me and all I could do was step back a little and watch her fall to the floor and watch for her to move, to get up, which I fully expected, but she didn't and it took a few seconds for me to process what had just happened.

Maurice looked down at her over my shoulder and said, "I warned her."

* * *

I put my arms around Kate and she leaned back with a deep sigh. I had trouble believing it was all over. I buried my face in her hair, which I just now realized wasn't in its usual ponytail.

"You smell like moldy basement." I told her.

"You always _did _know just what to say."

"You know me. Hearts and flowers."

Kate was silent for a moment.

"I've never seen dead people before."

"Really? Your parents-"

"Cremated. You know that blue and white vase on the bookshelf next to the fireplace-"

"_What_?!" God, I'd almost knocked that thing over last week.

"Kidding. They're interred in Chicago with family." She shuddered a little. "Can we get out of here?"

"Absolutely." I looked down at her bare feet. "Want me to carry you?"

"No way. For a little while there I really didn't think I'd be walking out of here."

On the way up the stairs she snagged my hand. I needed reassurance that _she_ was still there, too.

"Who do you call for something like this?"

" I need to figure out where we are first."

"No need for an ambulance?"

I shook my head.

"Wow." She whispered. "Nice job, Sipowicz."

"You've been saving that one, haven't you?"  
She just smiled. "Wish I could help you with the paperwork."

"I'll be home for Christmas."

I found the door I'd come in through and pushed it open for her. We stepped outside into brilliant sunshine, the very end of a spectacular sunrise. Kate looked up at the clear sky.

"Haven't you ever wanted to learn to fly?"

Aviation.

Perfect.

I put my arm around her as we walked to the car where the GPS would be able to pinpoint our location, but she stopped and turned to me.

"Wait," she said, grabbing my other arm and squinting in the sunlight, tossing her head to keep her windswept hair out of her face.

"I have something to tell you."

THE END.


End file.
